


Two Weeks at Six Flags

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sam Runs Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:08:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam ran away because he was fed up of his family and the family business. (This is pre-season, when Sam ran away to Six Flags. This is my take on it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Part 1.**

* * *

_"I've never been so torn up in all of my life,_   
_I should have seen this coming._   
_I've never felt so hopeless,_   
_Than I do tonight._   
_I don't wanna do this anymore, I'm moving on..."_   
**\- Moving On, Asking Alexandria.**

* * *

Sam Winchester was not a coward, he often stood up to his Dad and told him things that were, perhaps, hard to hear, but Sam believed that Dad needed to hear them sometimes. That was something that his brother didn't do.

Dean was the  _perfect little solider_ , Sam thought angrily as he stomped out of the shitty motel room that they were renting in Flagstaff, Arizona. He just wanted to get away for a while. He didn't care that Dean was meant to be watching him, he wanted to relax. Something that was hard to do when he had Dean on one side of the room, muttering about how it was possible to increase the efficient of on a shotgun, and his Dad loudly rustling papers, researching their next hunt on the other. So, he left on foot. He had a knife that he'd picked up as he left shoved down his right boot so it wasn't like he was unprepared.

Sam kicked an empty can into the road as he passed. He kind of wished that Dean had come with him, but at the same time he didn't. Dean wound him up with his unfailing belief in their Dad. And their Dad wasn't all-knowing, let alone all-loving. He would leave Dean and him for weeks - the longest he'd been gone was three months and it had been blessing that Dean had dropped school, because otherwise Sam would have gone hungry and they'd have lost their rented accommodation.

He paused outside of a café, digging in his pockets in the hopes that he would have enough money for a cup of coffee, if nothing else. But Sam's luck was down, there was only a dollar bill. He continued walking.

He knew that Dad had to save other people's lives, but would it kill him to remember a birthday? Or a national holiday like Christmas? On Sam's last birthday, when he turned sixteen, he had Dean giving him a present of driving around the parking lot in the Impala, with his brother fretting over the car's paint work afterwards. That had been amusing to witness. Dean had been given the car by their Dad on his twentieth birthday last year. But his Dad hadn't been at Sam's sixteenth, apparently it was too much to ask to be there for your son's birthday. He sighed, maybe he should leave. Permanently. It'd get rid of Dad for one thing, who always wanted him to research and train and hunt. But, Sam had to admit, if he left, he would miss Dean like hell.

He came to a stop at the main crossroad in Flagstaff and then turned around, heading back to the motel. When Sam got back fifteen minutes later, Dean was still on the bed, sorting through the guns, and Dad was researching for the case.

"Bitch, where've you been?" Dean said, looking up from the gun in his hands.

"Jerk," Sam smiled, "Just went for a walk."

He was aware of his Dad observing this interaction, and so turned to look at him.

"Dad? Do you want to say something?" He asked, as nicely as he could.

His Dad shifted in his seat, "Yeah, Sam. It's about the hunt."

Sam sighed; not the hunt again. It was a religious cult in Flagstaff, the one that dragged them here in the first place, and it was killing people in the area, according to their extra-curricula activities. In other words, the cult was killing people because they were  _cheating_  on their partners. It was simple, Sam thought, but there was a catch - they didn't yet know  _who_  was in the cult. That was the only thing they had to find out.

"What about the hunt?"

"Yeah, looks like I've found the cult," His Dad replied, glancing down at his notes, "And I've found where they hang out. So we're going to go there and hunt them."

Sam went over to the rickety table that served as his desk for doing his homework, and sat down the chair, reaching over and pulling his English homework towards him. He started by writing his name in the left-hand corner on the line, and continued writing the essay that wasn't due in until the end of the week.

* * *

Two days later and Sam was walking out of school, his bag slung over his shoulder as his eyes flicked over the cars that were driven by parents who didn't want their precious little darling getting kidnapped on their way home. He'd given his essay in today and thought that he had a chance of getting a good grade. He grinned when he spotted a black Impala tucked near the end of the line. It was Dean. He was put in charge of ferrying Sam to and from school each day, and his brother was glad to do it.

Sam thought it was mainly because of the saying that their Dad had ingrained into Dean's head -  _"Look after Sam!"_  - over the years. But he didn't say anything about the perfect solider Dad had turned his brother into. He wasn't crazy.

Dean turned to look at him as Sam climbed into the front seat and grinned, saying, "Hey squirt."

"Shut up!" Sam said, "You only say that because I'm almost taller than you!"

"No, it's cause you're a squirt." Dean replied as he eased the car out of the parking space and into the queue leading out of the car park.

After they got out of the school car park, Sam asked what Dean had been up to.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Dean said, pulling out of a junction and heading towards their motel, "Dropped you off at school, went to work at the garage, had lunch, went to the motel, helped Dad with the research and came to pick you up."

"Has Dad got rid of the cult yet?"

His brother shook his head, "No, he's going tonight, to see if he can get them to stop the killings."

"And if he can't?" Sam said, looking at the shops as they passed.

"If he can't, he's going to kill them. You know the drill."

* * *

Sam stared at the door to the motel room. He couldn't believe Dean. He'd gone to play on the arcade game for a couple of hours, and when he'd come back, there was a goddamn note and his bag hanging on the doorknob. He grasped his bag in his left hand and read the note, written in Dean's terrible handwriting.

_Sammy,_  
 _I'm a_  good _time, if you get my drift. Anyway, here's some things that I think you'll need while you're in town. You can come back tomorrow. Just not now._  
 _Thanks,_  
 _Dean._

Sam sighed and glared at the door one last time before walking out of the motel car park and down the road, towards the main crossroad. He ducked into the nearest café and ordered a coffee, silently hoping that Dean had left him some money. While he waited, he went through the backpack. There was a roll of dollar bills and a bunch of change; a gun, not that unusual for a Winchester; a change of clothes - Sam guessed that he was meant to put them on before going to the motel tomorrow, so Dad didn't know about his night - and a load of bullets for the gun. He already had his knife - Dad always insisted that he had his knife on him if he wasn't in the motel room. Sam thought his Dad was paranoid, but was willing to indulge him, it wasn't worth another fight, and besides, being paranoid had served his Dad well in the past.

He shoved the gun hurriedly deeper into the bag when the waitress comes, holding his coffee.

"Here you go." She said, smiling at him. She hovered while he took his first sip, the hot beverage sliding down his throat nicely.

"Yes?"

"I finish in ten minutes, and I was wondering if I could come and sit with you?"

Sam was shocked, it was normally Dean who got the propositions. But his brother wasn't here to take the attention away from him this time. He shook his head slightly, "Sure."

"Thanks!" And, true to her word, the waitress disappeared for ten minutes.

He could see her brown hair that was pulled up into a ponytail darting around as she made drinks and took orders. He wondered, taking another sip of his coffee, why she would want to hang around her place of work after her shift.

"Hey."

"Oh hello again," He said, looking at the waitress as she slipped into the seat opposite him, "Can you answer me two questions?"

She shrugged, "Go for it."

"Number one: what's your name?"

"My name's Leah. Yours?"

"Sam," He replied, "And number two: why are you hanging around your workplace after you shift has finished?"

Leah laughed, "Because I saw a cute guy."

"Where?" Sam said, looking around before realising that she was talking about him, "Me? Seriously?"

"Yes seriously, you've got dimples when you smile for one thing, and your hair is all over the place," She laughed again as Sam tried to correct that, hands flattening his hair, "It's alright, haven't I just admitted to liking that about you?"

He gulped his coffee down, "Yeah, I guess you have."

They chatted about things. Sam was honest to Leah, well as honest as he could be. He couldn't tell her about the  _family business_ , hunting things that go bump in the night, but he was reasonably honest.

* * *

Time passed, but Sam didn't notice, he was engrossed in the conversation he was having with Leah. Before he knew it, the café was closing and it was dark outside. He looked up and down the road, wondering if Dean was done fucking that girl (he wasn't stupid) in their  _shared_  motel room. He decided it wasn't worth the risk.

"You could stay with me tonight," Leah said, twirling a piece of brown hair around her index finger, "My parents aren't there. They're away for a week."

That sounded like something Dean would take full advantage of, Sam thought before smiling, bringing out the dimples that Leah liked so much, and asking, "Can I?"

Leah nodded, a grin bursting onto her face, "Come on!"

Sam allowed her to take his hand and pull him up the road, further from his motel and Dean.

* * *

Sam woke up slowly, his eyes refusing to open all the way. He squinted at the light, wondering where he was. Suddenly, the previous night came back in a rush. Kicked out of motel room, went to the café and came back to Leah's place. He was on the sofa in Leah's living room. He sat up. She would probably want him gone.

"Hello Sam."

Sam looked over at Leah, her brown hair neatly in a bun at the base of her neck.

"Hi," He said, standing up from the sofa, "Do you want me to go?"

"It doesn't really matter," Leah shrugged, "Just so long as you're gone by the time my parents come back at the end of the week."

Sam paused, picking up his backpack and thinking about what awaited him at home, and then said, "I think I'll go. You're a nice girl Leah, but I'd feel guilty if I stayed here any longer."

She nodded, saying, "It's been nice having you stay Sam. And my opinion of you has increased."

"I knew it would." He said, and then walked to the door, opened it and went outside.

He put his backpack on his back, starting to walk further away from his motel. He didn't want to go back yet, knowing his luck the woman who Dean'd had round would still be there, so he decided to wander and just see where his feet would take him. Another reason was that Dad would probably be arriving back and Sam didn't want to fight. Not when he'd been kicked out of his own motel room so Dean could satisfy his primal needs. That was enough to put anyone in a bad mood, he thought bitterly.

Sam turned down the road, aware that it was taking him even further from the motel, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to walk for a while.

* * *

He looked up from the ground. Where was he? Sam hadn't been paying attention - something that his Dad would have made him do extra training for - and now he was in an unfamiliar part of Flagstaff. Which, Sam will admit, wasn't hard when all he knew of this town was the school and the motel.

Looking for a road sign or a landmark of some sort, Sam continued walking slowly. He didn't feel like going back, so, even if it meant getting lost, he would keep walking.

When he eventually came to a crossroads, he held out a thumb, hoping to get a lift.

A large, white pickup truck indicated and stopped next to him. A large hand pressed the lock down and the door swung open. Sam looked carefully at the driver - a large man with a black mustache - and then, checking he still had his knife in his waist subtly, climbed into the passenger seat.

"Where ya goin' kid?" The driver asked gruffly.

To Sam's surprise, he shrugged and said, "Not really sure."

"I'm goin' to Scottsdale, outside Phoenix."

"That works."

"Ok." The driver said before pulling out on to the highway and starting the long drive south.

* * *

Sam woke up when the driver shook his shoulder. They were in Scottsdale, or at least, he assumed they were.

"Where are we?" He asked, wanting to be sure.

"Scottsdale," Was the short answer before, "Now get out of me truck."

"Thank you." Sam said, as he picked up his bag and opened the door. He got out with ease, stretching his legs. It had been a long drive, most of which had passed in a blissful sleep.

Sam wandered around Scottsdale for a few hours, feeling safe due to the gun hidden in his bag and the knife in his waist. He brought a bag of crisps with a few dollars. He thought about Dean and his Dad, hoping - if only for his brother's sake - that Dad wasn't back and hadn't found that he'd gone. His Dad would rip into Dean if he knew.

But, in fairness, Sam hadn't  _planned_  to travel away from his family, although it felt good. There was no arguments because he wanted to stay in the same school for more than a month with his Dad, and his family's combined music taste wasn't blaring out of the Impala's speakers. It was silent, apart from the noise of cars passing. It was wonderful, but Sam knew he couldn't stay here. Maybe in the next place.

There was a sense of peace with knowing that he  _didn't_  know where he was going to end up. With the Winchester family business, his Dad always told Dean and him where they were going and what case had taken them there. They were at the mercy of the supernatural beings they hunted.

* * *

The next car that Sam managed to get a lift with was a family of two parents and two children. They were heading to Yuma, for a family reunion. He knew this because the youngest child, at six years old, had chatted to him about their family and what they do. It made him (hopelessly) wish for a normal childhood, one that hadn't had him learning how to strip a gun in under five minutes and how to repel demons using salt and holy water. He asked questions to the six-year-old, as he was sitting in the middle of the youngest and the oldest, who had headphones in and looked about eighteen.

As the car tore down the highway, the six-year-old fell silent and went to sleep. That was when the adults asked him a question.

"Why are you going to Yuma?" The woman in the passenger seat asked, turning to face Sam while her husband drove.

Sam did what he did all the time, so much it had become a natural response to any type of question - he lied. After all, he could hardly tell this woman who was kindly letting him hitch a ride all the way to Yuma that he was, actually, running away from the hunting business.

"I've got some family - an aunt and an uncle - there and they wanted me to get 'experience' in the real world by getting there by myself."

The woman nodded, obviously believing his lie, "And your parents are ok with this?"

His Dad was probably -  _defiantly_  - flipping his shit, and no doubt Dean was taking the blame, like he always did. Like a  _good little soldier._

"Yeah, they rung my uncle and confirmed that I could manage the way there." He smiled, bringing out the dimples in full force. People said that his brother could charm them into believing things, but Sam could do it as well, he just chose not to do it all the time.

"Oh. Ok then." She said, turning forwards again.

Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank God that had worked.


	2. Part 2

**Part 2.**

* * *

  _"To wonder what could've been given another chance  
_ _To find the light in the darkness and way out of this..."_  
 **\- A Candlelight Dinner With Inamorta, Asking Alexandria.**

* * *

When Sam arrived at Yuma, he assured the parents that he could find his way to his fictional family's place, and left them, heading towards the nearest supermarket. He wanted to buy a sandwich - preferably a ham one, but years on the road had made him not fussy. So long as it was cheap and vaguely nutritional, he'd buy it.

He arrived at the supermarket, the door sliding sideways to let him in and the cool air engulfing him. He shifted his backpack so it was more comfortable. He walked slowly through the aisles until he found the ready-prepared sandwiches. He grabbed a ham one, glad that there was one left, and went to pay.

After Sam had paid, he went out to the parking lot, looking for a ride to somewhere. He was munching on his sandwich when a golden retriever trotted up to him and sat down. Sam looked at it, the dog had big, expressive brown eyes, like it was trying to look into Sam's soul.

He scratched its head and broke off a bit of sandwich to give to it.

"What's your name then?" He asked as the dog wolfed down the bit of sandwich and begged silently with its eyes for more. Sam, thinking that this dog had better puppy-dog eyes than himself, gave it some more of his sandwich. But then again, the dog  _was_  well,  _a dog_.

"You don't look like you belong to anyone," Sam said sympathetically, "So you can belong to me, if you want."

The golden retriever wagged its tail and barked. Sam smiled. He had a dog, something that he'd always wanted but couldn't have due to his travelling lifestyle, and his Dad refused to have, in his own words, 'another mouth to feed.'

As Sam walked away from the supermarket, the dog followed at his heels. It had adopted him. This was going to, no doubt, make getting a lift from a stranger harder, but he thought it was worth it.

* * *

By the time Sam had found them a ride, he'd named the dog 'Bones' and salvaged a collar for it. It was out of a bin and looked a bit worn, but he didn't think Bones minded. Hell, if it was possible, Bones looked  _pleased_  that he'd been adopted by Sam, but that wasn't possible.

Dogs, Sam was sure, as they got in the truck, Bones curling in a ball at his feet, brown eyes blinking at him, could  _not_  be pleased about anything. Supernatural beings existed, that was a little-known fact, but  _dogs did not look pleased._

The driver spoke from Sam's left-hand side, "Where you going then?"

Sam looked up from his dog (he got such a pleasant feeling calling Bones  _his_  dog) to find the driver of the Ford Transit van looking at him. The driver had mid-length black hair and wore a checked shirt, much like Sam himself, although the driver's didn't look as worn as Sam's. He smiled, pulling out the dimples that the girl -  _Leah_  - in Flagstaff, had liked so much.

"Well, I don't really have much of a plan," Sam bent and stroked Bones' head, feeling the soft ears, "But I'm happy to go wherever you're going."

"Well, I'm going to San Diego, if you wanna go there," The driver said, "But if you don't want to, I can drop off somewhere between here and now."

He thought about it. San Diego. It was far from his Dad and Dean (although Sam knew Dean wasn't the one he was running from) and it was busy enough that a sixteen-year-old and a dog wouldn't seem out-of-place.

Sam smiled again, "San Diego, sounds good to me."

* * *

San Diego was awesome, Sam thought, shrugging his bag comfortably on his shoulder. Bones was trotting  alongside  him. It was busy, as he'd suspected, and he could do what he wanted.

He knew that no café would let him in with Bones, so he sat on at a table on the sidewalk, getting Bones to sit and stay while Sam went inside to order some food for both of them. When he got back outside, Bones was rolled over on his back and a little girl with brown hair with a red bow in was stroking his belly. Immediately, Sam looked around for the parents of the child, and saw a woman with brown hair looking at the girl near his table. He relaxed slightly, so long as the mother was nearby, then nothing could happen.

"Hello," Sam said, crouching down next to the young girl after placing his warm coffee and the two cheese toasties on the table, "What's your name? I'm Sam."

"Julie - what's doggie's name?" She replied, glancing at her mother as she did so. Out of the corner of Sam's eye, he saw Julie's mum smile and nod.

"Bones," Sam said patiently, "How old are you?"

"I'm six years old," She said proudly, still stroking Bones, "How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"Where's your Mum?"

"My Mum's dead." Sam said, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He was sad, even though he'd been six months old when she's died burning on the ceiling of his nursery and he couldn't remember her, apart from a vague memory of blonde hair and a soft singing voice. He had to rely on three or four pictures that the Winchesters held close to their hearts, and the occasional story from Dean. His Dad wouldn't talk about her unless he was drunk.

He felt a small clutch at his waist and looked down. It was Julie, hugging him.

"Do you miss her?" Julie asked, still holding on to Sam.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I do."

"You need a hug more than Bones," She decided, giving him a squeeze, "He can have hugs all the time from you."

He carefully, aware that he was under the watchful eye of Julie's mother, hugged her back, thinking that this little girl was more perceptive that she seemed. And, Sam hadn't had any human contact since before he ran away, so it was nice to have a human being hugging him.

After a few minutes of comfortable hugging, they were interrupted by Julie's mum saying, "Julie! Come here! It's time to go!"

Sam untangled himself from Julie, letting her pat Bones one last time before smiling at her and waving as she left with her Mum.

At the last possible second, Julie turned around and yelled, "Bye Sam!"

He waved and shouted back, "Bye Julie!"

Then Sam sat down to eat his cheese toastie, well aware that Bones was looking at him. As he took a grateful sip of coffee, he muttered, "Bones, you can't have yours yet - it'll burn your tongue, and we don't want that, do we?"

Bones hunkered down on the floor, looking up at him with his brown eyes hopeful, and Sam, despite what he'd just said, gave the golden retriever part of his cheese toastie.

"This is the second time you've done this, you know?" He said as the dog ate the piece of food, its tail wagging happily.

* * *

After lunch, Sam wandered around San Diego, going unnoticed by the locals and the tourists. It was the best thing about the city, no one questioned a sixteen-year-old boy with a dog by his side walking around a city by himself. Sam looked at all the buildings, idly wondering if he could tell whether the building  was haunted . Of course, he doubted that he could but it was just something to occupy his mind.

As he passed a news agents, he went in and brought a newspaper, just for curiosity's sake. No other reason. Sitting down on a nearby bench, Sam flicked through it, looking for any strange deaths. Because they would probably mean that something supernatural going on. He'd been trained by John Winchester, who would expect him to know if anything supernatural was going on.

There was a strange death in an old house, according to the article. Sam read it closely, paying attention to the address where the death had happened. He guessed he could do a simple salt and burn, even if he had to buy some salt and a lighter. It wouldn't be that hard, but if this potential hunt was anything more than a salt and burn, he was phoning Dean and passing it along to them. But that would mean that his family knew where he was, and he'd have to hitch a ride somewhere that wasn't here.

Sam got up, folded the newspaper, placing it in his rucksack, and asked a passer-by where the nearest library was. The man kindly told him, and he set off, with Bones trotting next to his feet.

* * *

Sam stretched his arms above his head and sighed heavily. His instincts had been right, that house  was haunted  by a ghost, no other than a Mr. J. C. Collins, who'd died two years ago. He'd been in the library for about, he looked at his watch (the one that Dean had given him on his fifteenth birthday), four hours. He should pack up, collect Bones from outside and find somewhere safe(ish) to sleep for the night. There was no way he was tackling a graveyard at night on his own.

After putting his things in his bag, making sure that the gun was at the very bottom, Sam went outside to get Bones. The day had turned into night at some point while he'd been in the library.

He knelt in front of the dog, who proceeded to lick his face, "Hey - urgh," He pushed Bones away, "D'you mind? That's disgusting." Bones just wagged his tail. "I know  _you_  don't care, but I do. We need to find somewhere to sleep for tonight."

They walked through the streets, and soon they found a place to spend the night: a shitty motel where the receptionist didn't blink an eye when Sam went into the reception to ask for a room. Bones was outside. Sam had to believe that the golden retriever had been own before because the dog was trained to do basic commands, like 'sit', 'stay' and 'come'.

"Hello," The receptionist said, smiling, "Do you want a room?"

"Yes please, single," Sam replied, "For one night."

"That'll be thirty dollars please."

"D'you take cash?" Sam asked hopefully, his rucksack already twisted around to allow him easy access to the money scattered through it.

"Sure we do."

He handed her thirty dollars out of his rucksack, and then she gave him the key for room twenty-one. He smiled at her before heading out of the door into the cold night. Bones jumped up at him as soon as he exited the door.

"Yes, yes, I'm back." Sam said to the excited dog, grinning. It was nice to be greeted by his dog. "Now come on, before she notices you."

They walked quickly to room twenty-one and Sam opened the door. Instantly, Bones was through the door and jumping on the only bed. After closing the door, he raised an eyebrow and said firmly, "Bones, there is no way in  _hell_  that you're sleeping on my bed."

The dog put his head on his paws and looked so sad that Sam had to amend his earlier statement, smiling, "Fine, you can sleep on the end of the bed."

Bones wagged his tail and jumped off the bed. Sam smiled, pleased that Bones had listened to him.

"Good dog."

* * *

The next morning, and Sam woke up slowly. First he registered the sun  peeking  in through the curtains, and then the pillow his face  was pressed  against, and finally the weight of Bones laying across his feet. He wiggled his feet, just to see what the dog would do. It turned out that, when woken up, Bones licked his face.

Sam pushed him off the bed so he could get out of it, muttering, "All right, all right. I'm up."

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, and Sam, with Bones by his side, was heading downtown, towards the graveyard where the ghost's physical body was. When he got there, after stopping at a corner shop to buy two bottles of water and two sandwiches, plus a couple of other things, he settled down for a long wait on a nearby bench. The graveyard had to be completely empty before Sam liberated a shovel from the hut near the iron gate and began to dig up a body.

* * *

It was dusk and the sun was almost below the horizon when Sam broke into the hut. The graveyard was empty, the wind creating an eerie howling. Quickly and quietly, he located a shovel and  beat a hasty retreat  back outside to Bones. He patted the dog on the head before walking swiftly to the correct grave, shovel over his left shoulder. He'd had a look where Collins  was buried  earlier when his legs had gone numb, and Bones looked at him pitifully until he walked somewhere.

Sam stopped besides it, dropping his rucksack next to it and kneeling down in the grass to get out the salt and matches that he'd brought when buying the sandwiches, as well as his gun, which he loaded quickly and put in the waistband of his jeans. He was glad of the fading light; it him the gravestone.

_James Chester Collins_  
 _17th November 1922 - 23rd August 1997_  
 _A beloved son, husband, father and friend._  
 _May you rest in peace._

Sam chuckled darkly, the man clearly hadn't rested in peace, as he was a ghost and killing people. He told Bones to 'watch' and started to dig into the grave. He kept an ear out though, because as much as he liked Bones, he didn't trust a dog with his life.

Bones barked loudly and Sam straightened up, his hand automatically reaching around his waist for his gun. He aimed carefully - he didn't want to shoot Bones - and shot the ghost, causing it to fade into the air.

He knew he needed to hurry up, and so he started digging quicker, soon reaching the coffin. A couple of slams with the borrowed shovel and the coffin broke open. Working speedily before the ghost of Collins came back, he got out of the hole he'd dug, and sprinkled salt over the skeleton. Then Sam lit several matches at once and let them drop to burn the skeleton and wooden coffin up.

He stood to watch the flames for a few minutes, thinking about how, even when he wasn't with his family, there were still supernatural beings doing bad things.

"C'mon Bones," He said, after gathering everything up, including the 'borrowed' shovel, "We need to get out of here."

The dog bounded along his side as they made their way out of the graveyard, which was pitch black by now. Sam made sure to leave the shovel in the hut by the gate as he passed.

* * *

The following day found Sam and Bones in the back of a van, hurtling down the freeway towards a little place outside Las Vegas called Spring Valley. It still surprised Sam that he could still hear town names, and be able to wonder where it was, after being dragged around America by his Dad.

As he listened idly to the chatter of the young men in the front seats, Sam wondered if Dad was worried, and if he'd tried to find him yet. He kind of hoped that he had, as that would prove that Dad loved him. Sometimes it didn't feel like it, it felt like Dean was the favourite son because he was the one who could hunt properly, and Sam was the 'failure' because all he wanted to do was complete one year in the  _same_  high school. Of course, he would be deemed the abnormal one in his family because he wanted to do something normal.

* * *

After thanking the men who had given him the lift to Spring Valley, Sam went towards the main street. He walked slowly, looking in the shop windows and seeing him and Bones reflected in them. It made him aware of how dirty they were - they definitely needed a shower.

That thought sent him looking for a motel - shitty or otherwise, it just needed to let him rent a room for a night. After about twenty minutes of walking, Sam found one and, after ordering Bones to sit outside, went inside and got them a room. He and Bones walked to the room Sam had been given, Sam opened the door, they went in and he locked it, barely glancing at the room before heading to the bathroom for a shower.

That was the only downside to digging up graves, Sam thought as he scrubbed his hair with shampoo in the shower under the warm water, it got you very mucky.

After his shower, he had to persuade Bones to have a bath, but as Sam suspected, once the dog was in the water, he loved it. It was therapeutic, he thought, scrubbing all the graveyard dirt from the hair of a dog. The faded, red collar got a wash as well. Thankfully, Sam had remembered to close the bathroom door, otherwise he would have had a wet dog on his bed. And that wouldn't have been good.

Once Bones was dry, Sam let him into the room, watching as Bones jumped on the bed and curled up in a ball. The dog's tail was all fluffed up; it looked cute.

"While you stay there," Sam said, pulling his boots on, "I'll go and get some food."

Before he left the room, he turned and said, "You can't make any noise, otherwise they'll know you're here, and I don't think this motel allows pets."

His only response was a gentle snore from the bed. Sam chuckled and then left, in search of food.

* * *

Because Spring Valley was a nice place, and all the locals seemed polite and uninterested in a teenage boy and his dog, Sam decided to stay for a few more days. Except a few more days turned into a full week, and Sam hadn't moved since arriving there the day after the small salt and burn of the Collins ghost.

It was a nice, sunny day, though it was still chilly, making Sam glad he had a jacket, when he decided that he'd spent long enough in one town. So, in accordance with this idea, he got a lift for himself and Bones to Flagstaff. He enjoyed the thrill that went down his spine at the idea of being so close to Dean and his brother not knowing.

* * *

After a days worth of driving, Sam was back in Flagstaff. He and Bones got out of the old car that had been their ride into town. He turned and thanked the driver as they drove off, before wondering what he could do.

He guessed that he could always go and see Leah again, introduce her to Bones. Yes, that was a good idea, he started to walk towards the motel, though he planned not to go past it, because he felt sure that, if he did, then Dad or Dean would spot him.

* * *

"Sam?" She said.

Sam smiled, "Yep, it's me. Can we come in?"

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Bones, my dog, that I've...gained." He said, patting Bones on the head.

Leah opened the door and beckoned them in. In a few minutes, him and Bones were sat on the sofa where he'd spent the night last time he had been here. Sam had a cup of coffee, and Bones was laying on his feet. He was telling the story of what he'd been doing since he left Flagstaff.

"You got in a car with a couple of men, who were driving a van, to Spring Valley?" Leah said, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, of all the things that he'd done, she seemed to find the last part of his journey the most shocking. Leah had found the way the little girl in San Diego had hugged him adorable - he had to agree with her - Julie had been cute.

* * *

Sam had stayed the night at Leah's - her parents were away again, which made him wonder what they did for a living. But now he was walking along the road with Bones by his side. He was having breakfast consisting of a bacon sandwich that he'd picked up from a  cafe . Sam had given Bones one, who had wolfed it down.

In all honesty, Sam silently hoped that Dean and Dad were still in town, that they were still in Flagstaff, because the money that Dean had given him about a week ago was running out. He only had about twenty-five dollars left.

"SAM?!"

Sam's eyes widened. He recognised that voice. It was Dean's. He slowly turned around, and faced his brother.

"Er...hi Dean?" He said nervously.

"Sam, where the hell have you been?!" Dean said loudly.

"Erm...Scottsdale, Yuma, San Diego, Spring Valley and then back here." Sam reeled off, giving Bones a pat on the head.

"You are coming back with me. End of story. No arguments." His brother said, starting to walk towards the Impala.

Sam sighed heavily, and then trudged after Dean, Bones following him.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3.**

* * *

_"I've longed for so much more_  
 __ I wanna be the best that I can be  
__ The best that I can be..."  
**\- Until The End, Asking Alexandria ft. Howard Jones.**

* * *

_I wish that Dad had let me keep Bones,_  Sam thought wistfully, missing the golden retriever that had been his friend.

The Winchesters were in the Impala, driving south-east towards El Paso in Texas. They'd set off as soon as Sam let Bones go in Flagstaff. Of course, Dad would make Sam get rid of the dog.

The two weeks that he'd spent moving from place to place without Dad - he wasn't going to lie - they were the best weeks of his life. Sam couldn't wait to go to college, it didn't matter where the college was, just so long as it was away from Dad and hunting.

* * *

He was on the bed, staring at the off-white ceiling, and thinking about the case that he'd done by himself in San Diego. It had been easy, a simple salt and burn, unlike the case that Dad was talking about now.

"...and the house then had multiple hauntings in the '80s and '90s, but no one believed the survivors. Since then it's been stood empty," His Dad was saying, "Until now that is, when this couple moved in last year. They got murdered by the ghost..."

"But how were the couple murdered?" Dean asked.

"Well, that's the interesting part," Dad said, "They were found in their bed, their throats slashed, blood gushing everywhere..."

Sam tuned their conversation out, and started to day-dream again.

* * *

_"SAM!" Dad yelled as soon as Sam got in the motel room, with Bones next to him and Dean behind._

_Dean sat on the bed silently, evidently watching Sam and Dad argue._

_"Hey Dad." Sam said, gripping Bones by his collar._

_"Where the hell did you go?!"_

_"I went away from this damn family!" Sam yelled, "From the constant hunting! From the constant moving!"_

_"That's the business Sam! We save people from things that they can't explain!" Dad yelled back._

_"That means that we," Sam gestured at himself and Dean, "Didn't have a normal childhood! Hell, Dean didn't have a childhood, cause you forced him to look after me while you were off hunting things for weeks at a time!"_

_"It was necessary!"_

_After the fight, Sam was forced to watch as Dad shooed Bones -_ his dog _\- away. He forced down the lump in his throat, trying not to let the tears welling in his eyes fall._

_"Sammy? You ok?"_

_He nodded, biting his lip._

* * *

Sam guessed that he could deal with the moving, and the hunting, for another year. When he applied to college, he could get away from the  _Winchester Family Business_ , and never hunt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is done. Finished. :)
> 
> Leave kudos and comments because they make my day. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 out of 3. Please comment/leave kudos, it makes my day. :)


End file.
